


Tequila.

by doctorkaitlyn



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Drinking, M/M, One Shot, Sequel, slightly cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 15:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the tequila that did it. Written for the kinkmeme prompt: "Daryl and Glenn have actually met, years before, but they've both forgotten."  Sequel to Saturday Night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tequila.

**Author's Note:**

> Jesus, I took way too long to repost this here. Anyways. Originally written and posted on ff.net last November; oddly enough, I wrote this before Saturday Night, even though it is the sequel. Meant to take place somewhere in season two. I hope you lovely readers enjoy this slightly silly, slightly crack fic. xo.

It was the tequila that did it. Before the bottle was passed around, they'd all been having a fairly normal dinner; well, as normal as you could get, considering they were all crowded around a camp fire eating a variety of canned foods with their fingers, the conversations no louder than a whisper.

Then Daryl had reached back into his rucksack and nonchalantly pulled out a bottle filled with a clear liquid, the words Jose Cuervo labelled on the front. He'd taken a quick gulp, his face scrunching up in an extremely unattractive way and when he'd lowered the bottle, the entire camp had been staring at him, the food seemingly forgotten on their plates.

"What the hell you all lookin' at?" he muttered, tightening his grip on the bottle. They'd only continued to stare and with an exaggerated groan, he passed the bottle to Glenn on his left, growling something about damn freeloaders underneath his breath. The kid had taken one sip, coughed and spluttered like a drowning cat before passing it to Andrea and so on and so forth.

From that point on, the night was practically guaranteed to get weird. After three rounds, the bottle was only being passed back and forth between Glenn (who was no longer choking on each sip) and Daryl, who didn't look affected in the least. The others had loosened up and were now lounging around the fire, letting their limbs sprawl wherever they pleased. Their mouths had opened up as well; while before it had been a struggle to get anyone talking longer than ten seconds, now they were all fighting to be heard, competing with each other. Lori and Carol appeared to be sharing cleaning tips, Andrea and Dale were getting _way_ too close and even Shane had started blabbing a bit, one sip enough to get him talking to Rick about the good ol' days.

Then Daryl and Glenn had yelled simultaneously and it had been enough to make everyone stop in their tracks.

"Holy shit!" Both men jumped up and stared at each other, their eyes huge as saucers. For a few moments, only jumbled syllables and partly formed words spilled past their lips, getting tangled together. Glenn, surprisingly, was the one to properly speak first, his hands going up to grab his hat.

"That... that was you?"

"Jesus Christ kid, how the fuck did we forget this?"

"Well, I _was_ really drunk. But so were you!"

"Was not. At least I could fucking walk."

"I didn't need my mouth to walk." If it was possible, the camp got even quieter; even the crickets seemed to be have shocked by what had come out of Glenn's mouth. For his part, Glenn was grinning like a complete idiot, obviously drunk. Daryl was completely unfazed, smirk settled on his lips. After a few moments, they both started laughing. Glenn practically collapsed onto Daryl, his hands gripping the other man's shoulders as his entire body shook. The other members of the camp had absolutely no idea what the appropriate response would be. Were they supposed to laugh too? Were they supposed to just carry on with their own business and pretend that they weren't extremely intrigued by the scene in front of them?

In the end, they didn't have to make a decision. When Daryl and Glenn were done laughing, they merely stood there and stared at each other for another few moments, still holding each other's shoulders. The tension was obvious and the others couldn't help but lean forward, collectively thinking _do it._

They did. Daryl and Glenn crashed together, their mouths finding each other roughly. Glenn's hat flew out of his hands and if Dale hadn't caught it, it would have flown into the fire. Not that Glenn would have cared; he was far too busy grasping at the hem of Daryl's shirt, already tearing at it.

"Christ, that alley was filthy," he gasped as he pulled away for air, swaying noticeably on his feet. If Daryl hadn't wrapped an arm around his lower back, he surely would have fallen over.

"Yeah, but we got a tent now, don't we?" With that, the two stumbled off to Glenn's tent, disappearing inside in a whirlwind of limbs and more kissing. For a few moments, all the others could do was stare at the tent, which was rustling rather loudly. It was Dale who finally broke the silence, his hand going back to stroking Andrea's hair.

"I've always tried not to drink tequila," he said, trying his hardest not to laugh. "It's a monster of a drink."

If they hadn't been busy getting reacquainted with the opposite's body, finding out what differences two years had made, Daryl and Glenn would have disagreed with him.


End file.
